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MOODS AND MEMORIES 



MOODS and 

MEMORIES 



BY 



EDMUND J.EAMY 

Author of "My Ship, and Other Verses," etc. 




NEW YORK 

THE DEVIN-ADAIR CO. 

1920 



Copyright, 1920, By 
THE DEVIN- ADAIR CO. 



Mi 12 1920 



GI.A571427 



-x^O 



D 

D 



TO 

MY BKOTHER 

HUGH 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Foreword 11 

Proem 17 

MOODS 

Wounded on the Veldt 21 

The Tavern by the Sea 22 

The Road to Larchmont 25 

Because 27 

The Traitor 28 

Good Bye, Old Man 30 

Sister 31 

Gone West 32 

The Departure 34 

The Soldier 36 

Dead Fires 40 

Anchorage 42 

Prayer Before Action 44 

Peter Pan's Promise 45 

Faith in Fairies 48 

To a Dead Poet 51 

Top o' the Morning 52 

The Master 54 

Afternoon Tea 55 

Anticipation 57 

7 



PAGE 

Wander Whispers 58 

On Morris Street 60 

Freighters 62 

The Big Drays 64 

Wanderlure 66 

IN LIGHTER VEIN 

The Solution 71 

A Woman's Way 73 

'Tis a Sad Story, Mates 74 

The Encounter 76 

Water and Wine 78 

Native Beer 81 

The Tragedy 83 

On the Old Slave Road 85 

Why Not? 87 

Cheero ! 89 

MEMORIES 

Childhood Dreams 93 

Magic 94 

A Phantasy 95 

Conquering Faith 97 

Nostalgia 99 

Night Memories 101 

Nightmare 103 

In Port 105 

Two Meetings 107 

A Tropic Night 108 

8 



PAGE 

Roads 110 

Prisonered 112 

The Lost Grave 114 

Daressalaam 116 

Remembrance 118 

Perfumes 119 

Sea Hunger 121 

The Wife's Vigil 122 

The Torch 124 

Old Campaigners 125 

The Garden 127 

Little Lights 129 

LOVE SONGS 

Sweetheart of Long Ago 133 

I Will Forget 135 

Perhaps 137 

Loss 139 

Rose Petals 140 

Knowledge 142 

The Message 143 

So Worldly Wise Were We 144 

Tears Are Vain 145 

Forever 146 

Because of a Day 148 

Port o' Call 149 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



FOREWORD 

There is an Irish accent runs through Ed- 
mund Leamy's verse . . . the gaiety, the wist- 
fulness, the pathos, the eloquence of the Celt 
are there — the appealing Celtic cadence which 
is more than merely a cadence of speech, being, 
in fact, a cadence of the spirit behind the speech 
and putting its stamp upon the speech. One 
finds a strain of wistfulness in the work of 
many Irish writers of verse who are not really 
poets ... or rather, finds that they have been 
consciously striving for it. Mr. Leamy is a 
poet, and he speaks what is in him without 
straining or striving consciously for it ; the ac- 
cent that is native to his soul and to his lips 
works into his verse without his laboring for it 
or being, apparently, aware of it. 

His poems produce an effect of authenticity 
and genuineness because he has first felt and 
lived them. I know that he has first felt and 
lived them, for it is my privilege to know him, 
and to have known something about his life and 

[11] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

experiences during the years when these poems 
were writing themselves. But they are so in- 
tensely personal, so evidently the reaction to 
life and circumstances of one particular definite 
individual, that I think I should detect the genu- 
ineness of these expressions — would be able to 
say to myself that they are not merely the exer- 
cises of a capable literary man trying on various 
costumes — had I known nothing of the writer or 
of his history. 

The general reader, however, may gain addi- 
tional pleasure and interest from knowing that 
many of these poems were written while Mr. 
Leamy was serving as a Lieutenant in the Brit- 
ish Army (the King's African Rifles) in German 
East Africa. I know of no poems reflecting any 
phase of the late war that have for me more 
poignant appeal than such things as the dedica- 
tory poem of this book, and " Wounded on the 
Veldt, " " Gone West, ' ' ' ' The Departure, ' ' ' ' The 
Soldier,' ' etc., etc. Mr. Leamy does not beat 
the big drum and make skirl the shrill bag-pipe 
when he writes of the war; he seems always to 
tell truthfully, with a poet's truthfulness, how 

[12] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

some thing that he knew well affected him per- 
sonally. Compare Kipling's " Danny Deever" 
with the poem called "The Traitor" in this 
book. They are both about the same thing . . . 
a man is being hanged, and his comrades in 
arms are witnessing the execution . . . and 
Kipling's famous verse is more impressive in a 
technical way, it has more of the military 
rhythm and makes a more direct assault upon 
the nerves. But I think it is an external per- 
formance, however impressive, compared to 
"The Traitor.' ' In the latter poem one can- 
not escape the feeling that this actual Leamy, 
present in his own person, did individually and 
personally experience these particular emotions 
recorded: emotions that were not the conven- 
tional common property of the entire regiment, 
but his own, no matter what the rest of the com- 
mand might have been thinking. 

To dwell upon the war poems too long is to 
give a false idea of the book's content, for they 
are not preponderantly numerous : on the con- 
trary, there is rich variety here. For an edged, 
scornful, piece of work in a very "modern" 

[13] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 

mood and manner, look at "Afternoon Tea." 
It is not like the majority of Mr. Leamy's poems 
either in matter or treatment . . . and yet, how 
well it is done ! It would be rash to predict the 
growth of a new tendency in a poet's work from 
a few samples of this sort ; but it does show that 
when he wants to Mr. Leamy can say something 
to the point regarding human nature in its 
familiar, social, conversational environments as 
well as when he views it amid rawer, uncouther, 
war-like or workaday surroundings. Perhaps 
he will develop this faculty and give us a num- 
ber of these sharp portraits . . . adding an- 
other weapon to his equipment. 

He is exceedingly well equipped as it is . . . 
he has a feeling for words and for rhythms, he 
has his individual point of view, he has the eye 
which seizes upon the salient fact which signi- 
fies the whole, he has his Inheritance of glamour, 
and, more than all, he has a singing soul. 

Don Makquis. 



[14] 



For permission to reprint many of the poems 
in this volume my thanks are due to the editors 
and publishers of the following publications: 
New York Evening Sun, New York Times Sun- 
day Magazine, New York Times, The Saturday 
Evening Post, Adventure, House and Garden, 
Contemporary Verse, Breezy Stories, McClure's 
Magazine, New York American, Uganda Herald, 
The East African Standard, The Designer, The 
People's Home Journal, Woman's Weekly, New 
York Sunday Sun, Sea Power, Boy's Life, 
Munsey's Magazine, Snappy Stories, Modem 
Electrics. 

E. L. 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



PROEM 

Comrades I have left behind me 
In that far-off southern land, 

When at dusk the stars come stealing 
Do you dream cmd understand? 

Do you think of other nightfalls — 

Bom-bom hidden in the bush; 
Sniper's bullet hitting blindly; 

Haunting dread of bayonet rush? 

Do you, seated by the camp-fire, 

Live again those olden days, 
Hopeless treks through hopeless country 

For our little meed of praise? 

Lone patrols with stars for guidance, 

Hidden death on every side, 
Only faith to keep us going, 

Dauntless faith cmd white man's pride. 
[17] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



Then at last the distant rail-head, 
Comrades, camp and friendly fire, 

Food and drink and peace and comfort, 
Haven of the heart's desire. 

Night upon the lonely gubba, 
And the West wind sighing low. 

Don't you miss them in your dr earnings- 
Crowded hours of long ago. 

Full they were with grief and laughter, 
hove and hate time and again, 

Death, disease, and dread, and danger, 
When we lived — and died like men. 

To you of the far-off old life, 
You who dream and understand, 

O'er ten thousand leagues of distance, 
Here, I stretch a comrade's hand. 



[18] 



MOODS 



MOODS AKD MEMORIES 



WOUNDED ON THE VELDT 

(For My Mother) 

The stars are shining — they are my mother's 

eyes; 
The wind cries softly — I know it is her cry; 
The lovely night caresses — 'tis her arms — 
Oh, God above, I am content to die ! 



[21] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE TAVERN BY THE SEA 

There's a musty little tavern at the back of 
God-knows- where 
On a tiny little twisted cobbled street, 
Its gas lamps through the windows throw a 
fuggy muggy glare, 
And it's there that of an evening sailors meet. 

Till its closing time at midnight one by one they 

come and go, 

And the hours are passed in revelry and song, 

And yarns of days sea-faring, sun and shine 

and storm and snow, 

And good red rum to drink the evening long. 

But when the last lone reveller has vanished 
down the street, 
And the moon rides low and palely in the sky, 
Then they come, they come all silently on swiftly 

moving feet, 
The others — sailor men of days gone by. 

[22] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



And very jovial shades are they, and very glad 
to be 
Again within the tavern as of old, 
Swapping lies, and salty stories of the deathless 
sweeping sea, 
Tales of life, and love, and lure of yellow gold. 



A ghostly pot-boy serves them beakers filled 
with ghostly ale, 
And a ghostly host smiles broadly from the 
bar, 
And they drink deep drinks with laughter till 
the dawn comes grey and pale, 
When they pay their scores and go with the 
last star. 



And I'm told that these old sailors, though it 
,may not all be true, 
Are very, very wicked, bad and bold, 
And they sail on ghostly cruises o'er the ocean's 
trackless blue, 
On ghostly ships in search of ghostly gold. 

[23] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



And whether they're successful, I believe it 
matters not, 
For ever there's good cheer and company, 
And a mate to swap a yarn with, and a man to 
share a pot 
Of ale, within the tavern by the sea. 

And it may not quite be heaven, but what more 

would sailors ask 

When the long trick is finished and is over, 

But a table in the tavern, and a talk about the 

task, 

And a mug of ale with some old fellow-rover ! 



[24] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE ROAD TO LARCHMONT 

The road that leads to Larchmont 

Is very, very fair, 
With music in the singing wind 

And perfume in the air, 
With nodding trees and friendly trees 

And gladness everywhere. 

There are glimpses of Long Island Sound 

And glistening bits of sand, 
And little green-white cottages 

In little gardens stand, 
Till one would think that God Himself 

Watched o'er that pleasant land. 

And you can hear the song of birds, 

And you can hear the sea 
Come whispering from o 'er the world 

Where lovely islands be, 
As sweet as any fairy dream 

In far off Arcady. 

[25] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

The laughing fields, the smiling flowers, 

The sunshine sweet, the near, 
Dear host of golden memories — 

But who (ah, exiles here), 
Who knows the road to Larchmont town 

So very, very dear? 

Who knows the road to Larchmont, here, 

And who is here to care 
If nodding tree is friendly tree, 

And perfume is the air? 
Who knows but I whose heart aches now 

With longing to he there? 



[26] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



BECAUSE 

Because I am so very far away 

From all dear things . . . 
Because each sun-lit, never-ending day 

Caressing clings 
The memory of little folks at play, 

My tired heart sings. 

Ah, sings and sighs e'en as the West wind 
sighs — 

With joy or woe — 
For glory of the days 'neath other skies 

Which we did know, 
For love that shone deep in a mother's eyes 

So long ago. 



[27] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE TRAITOR 

I saw them hang a man one time 

From the top of a gallows high, 
And he was a louse, with the soul of a louse, 

And richly deserved to die; 
But as I saw him swinging there, 

His body so limp and weak, 
That never again would laugh any more 

Nor love, nor sing, nor speak, 
A twinge of pity came into my heart 

That one of my own should die 
By the hangman's hand in a foreign land, 

Under an alien sky. 

But he had planned the cowardliest deed 

That ever a man can do — 
To sell us all to the enemy 

When we thought him straight and true. 
But we found him out. At a drumhead court 

We sentenced him to die 

[28] 



MOODS AND MEMOKIES 



At 6 o 'clock when the gay young sun 

Should crimson the Eastern sky. 
And so he swung from the gallows tree, 

And my thoughts went far away 
To a woman who waited expectantly 

His safe return some day. 

And oh, I hope that she never learns 

The death that his has been; 
That she holds her dream that he travelled West 

Kadiant, brave and clean. 
And if ever I chance to meet with her, 

Which God in His heaven forbid, 
May she never read in the eyes of me 

The thing that is better hid. 
But should she ask, as a woman will, 

If he went like a man to die, 
I hope to be able to look at her straight, 

And on the word of a soldier — lie ! 



[29] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



GOOD-BYE, OLD MAN 

(Lieut E. P. Killed in Action G. E. A, 1917) 
Good-bye, old man, may the Unknown Way 

Be easy for your going — 
May the suns that light your new-found day 

Be kindly in their showing. 

May every prayer we breathe for you 

Find answer in the glories 
That wait you There, as dear and true 

As faith in fairy stories. 

And may you sometimes from the Light 

Steal back to us unknowing, 
And greet us lone, at the dawn of night 

When the soft west wind is blowing. 



[30] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



SISTER 

One does not look for beauty in a shed, 
Nor in a hospital upon the sand; 

Neither in the loneliness 
Of a foreign land. 

But in a corrugated iron ward, 
Amid the glory of a sunset hour 

And the far-off wilderness — 
I found a flower. 



[31] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



GONE WEST 
(On Active Service G. E. A. 1917) 

"It's goin , on twenty-two months now 
Since Fve been home," he said, 

"But I'm goin' when it's over 
And the Boche's power is dead; 

And mayhap there '11 be a woman, 
And a baby's curly head." 

He was sick and tired of Africa, 

But in fine high feather, 
So I cursed the Hun, and wished him luck, 

And we had a drink together — 
One for him, and one for her 

In all kinds of weather. 

And then upon a lone patrol, 

Beneath the sunny skies, 
He went as brave men go to death 

With clear and shining eyes, 
And a lonely grave in Africa 

Is all his paradise. 
[32] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



Not all, for oh, the good God knows 
The dreams of his own dead, 

And I think in that far heaven 
There's another home instead-^ 

And a lovely woman waiting, 
And a little curly head. 



[33] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



THE DEPARTURE 
(For My Mother) 

No bands were playing merrily, 

No flags were flying gay; 
No handkerchiefs were fluttering 

As I went on my way 
Along the street to crimson war 

Upon a snnny day. 

No hand was held in greeting out, 
None breathed a good-luck plea, 

None blew a kiss, a farewell kiss — 
Then, lonely as could be, 

I thought I heard your dear-loved voice 
Come whispering to me. 

I thought I heard you whispering, 

Your lips seemed very near ; 
Your breath was sweet upon my cheek 

And softly in my ear 
I thought I heard you murmuring — 

"Good-bye, God bless you, dear!" 
[34] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



No bands were playing merrily 

As I went on my way 
Along the road to crimson war 

Upon a sunny day; 
But, oh, the heart of me that thrilled 

To what it heard you say. 



[35] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



THE SOLDIER 

This morning in my tent I woke to find 
The warm sun shining through the door 
On cot, and walls, and floor, 
And, oh, his smile was generous and kind. 

I had not seen his face for many days, 

Nor known the glory of his light, nor felt 

The warm touch of his hand. 

Too long the bitter mist had veiled his rays 

And cloaked in cruel cold the mountain top 

Which overlooks the distant stretching veldt 

And is my home. 

Home ! In this far foreign land 

A tent upon the mountain. And my eyes dim 

With straining, watching for the grim 

Enemy that does not come. 

I saw my home fragrant with the scent of many 

flowers, 
Saw once again the well-remembered things, 

[36] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

» ■ -»— — — ™" ■* 

The pictures on the walls that I have known 

since childhood honrs — 
"Doggies in Disgrace," "The Snnset Sea," 
"The Roll Call." There came to me 
Visions of old furniture, the things that stood 
Within the living rooms. The polished wood 
Of sideboards grave with age, and cabinets 
Whose inlaid doors close hid from idle gaze 
Ancient relics, treasures, gifts of olden days. 

And there within that best-loved room of all — 
The room of books and shaded lamps and cozy 

chairs 
And pipes in racks upon the wall, 
And dim scent of tobacco, and carpet worn 
With loving tread by reverential feet 
That sought a haven from a world of cares, 
And found in this retreat 
The peace that dear contentment knows — 
Here stood I, and a rose 
In a vase upon the table nodded at me 
Familiarly 
As if 'twere yesterday. Ah, God ! . • . Then 

up the stairs 

[37] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

Unerring footsteps led me straight in line 

To one dear room that in the ages past 

Was mine. 

I toyed with curtains, fingered sheet and bed, 

Touched photos on the wall and knew 

How frail is mortal memory 

So few were now recalled. My head 

Was filled with wild, queer longings. 

The sun came in the window 

And I could hear 

Very near 

The song of birds within the trees 

And on the breeze 

The laugh of little children playing in the sun, 

And wafted to my nostrils came the sweet, salt 

tang of sea, 
And merrily 
On blue Long Island Sound flashed by the little 

ships, 
Their white sails greeting me — 
An old friend returned. 

[38] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



And then I heard voices down below, 

Voices I shall know 

When ears of mine are deaf to other sounds — 

Down, down on winged feet 

Straight, fleet 

To the best-loved room I flew 

(Ah, well I knew) 

Into the arms of those more dear than all — 

Oh, Christ ! the dear joy of it. . . . 

In my tent upon the lonely mountain 

So I dreamed; 

And the sun shone, and all seemed 

Real, true. 

I wondered, ' ' Is the dear day near 

The dear day of returning, or . . ." The 

sun went out, 
The mist came, hid the mountains, and as of old 
I shivered with the cold — 
Or this time — was it fear? 



[39] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



DEAD FIRES 

I'm sick of the endless silence, 

I'm tired of the endless hills, 
I'm wearied of bush and palm trees, 

And the peace that the East instills ; 
I'm sick of the sight of natives 

And the smell of the whining wind — 
And I long for a day in the world away 

With the things that I left behind. 

A night in the old Red Lion, 

A fling in the old, old way, 
A pair of red lips to love me 

And eager to laugh or play; 
A pal of the old days near me 

Ever and ever so kind, 
The crash of song the wild night long, 

And the dream that I left behind. 

The perfume of violets hidden 
And lost in a woman's hair, 

[40] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

A dance for the days forgotten, 

And a kiss for an old despair, 
A tryst for an olden keeping 

When eyes that are wise were blind 
The madding nights, the whirl of lights, 

And the follies I left behind. 

I'm tired of the wild, wide open, 

The silence, the peace, the rest, 
And I long for the din of cities — 

But I know that the Wilds are best, 
For the dreams that I dreamed are banished 

Where never a man may find, 
And my heart lies dead with the days long fled, 

And the faith that I left behind ! 



[41] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



ANCHORAGE 

Some day when I have become very rich 
And I'm tired of sailing the sea, 

I'll anchor my ship by a far-away isle 
Where the buccaneers used to be. 



I'll carry a cargo of good red rum, 

And a ton of tobaccy or so, 
And charter a skipper to spin me yarns 

O'er the pipe bowl's cheery glow. 

And this skipper of mine he must be old 
And bronzed with a deep-sea tan, 

He must have travelled the wide world o'er, 
And he must have lived like a man. 

He must have measured a woman's love, 

And found it as false and frail 
As the catspaw puff on an oily sea 

When we prayed for a bellying sail. 

[42] 



MOODS AND MEM OKIES 

And he and I, we will spend the day, 
The night when the night is come, 

In smoking tobaccy, and swapping tales, 
And drinking our glass of rum, 

And talking to shades of bygone men — 

Pew, Silver, and Captain Kidd, 
Who '11 tell us then, when we will not care, 

The place where their treasure is hid. 

And mayhap a dream in my heart of hearts 

Will stir as I go to rest 
To bring me back to the long ago, 

And the one I loved the best. 

And this is the life for a sailorman 

Who is tired of the restless sea — 
A Mate, Tobaccy, A tot of rum, 

And a Dream for company ! 



[43] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



PRAYER BEFORE ACTION 

If I should die who so have loved the world 
Of sunshine and of laughter and of song, 

The lovely dreams each new-born day unfurled 
Before that dread hour came and all was 
wrong — 

Ere stalked grim War with devastating breath, 
With lengthening shadow and with ruthless- 
ness, 

Rank red rapine, cold murder, bloody death, 
Dumb hours of waiting and of hopelessness — 

If I should die, if I this life should give, 

Lord God in Heaven, let that moment's pain 

Help win for those dear ones who yet may live 
The world in all her loveliness again ! 



[44] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



PETER PAN'S PROMISE 

(A poem for very little children) 
Upon a day of summer sun 
In far off fairy Kensington 
To those dear gardens that are there 
Where everything is gay and fair, 
I went and sat upon the grass 
Beside the path where children pass, 
To see them as they gaily ran 
To greet the elfin Peter Pan. 



That little laughing clever boy 
Who plays his flute with wanton joy 
The livelong lovely summer day 
Till all the world's compelled to play, 
And all the birds from all the trees 
Come flying down the singing breeze, 
And men and maids from Fairyland 
Come dancing round him hand in hand. 
[45] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



And as I sat there by myself 
Sly Peter Pan, the little elf— 
Perhaps he thought he heard me call- 
Hopped down from off his pedestal, 
And coming over close to me 
He whispered in a voice of glee 
That some day he was going to run 
Away, away from Kensington— = 

The Eound Pond and the Serpentine, 
The Broad Walk that's so very fine, 
And all the things he held so dear 
Because he wished to visit here, 
To cross the sea some sunny day 
And with those other children play 
Whom he had never, never seen, 
In this land where he'd never been. 

And so some morning if you find 
Your window open and the blind 
All tossed aside, jump out of bed 
And run to greet him, for he said 
That he was coming here to play 
[46] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



With all good children, some fine day; 
So you must always be as good 
As little children always should, 
And never cross, and bold, and glum, 
Or Peter Pan will never come ! 



[47] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



FAITH IN FAIRIES 

When I was a child I used to know 
A lovely spot in the twilight glow, 
Where, half-afraid of the dimming light, 
And all ashamed of our growing fright, 
We stood in the hush of an ancient tree 
And heard low sounds of minstrelsy : 
Sweet notes of music magic and fair 
As the song of the wind on the summer air 
And the hum of waves on a silver strand, 
Or the song of birds in a foreign land. 
And then, if we had been very good 
The live-long day — in the shadowy wood 
Perhaps, perhaps 'neath a near-by tree 
In a swirling, whirling ring we 'd see 
Tiny figures all dancing wild 
To gladden the heart of a wide-eyed child ; 
Dancing, dancing as merrily 
As the waves that ripple a moonlit sea, 
As light as the dew on a half -hid flower, 
As fleet as the fleeting time-sped hour, 

[48] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

Till sudden we knew the day was done 

And vanished completely the friendly sun. 

Then fast, as fast as our feet could go 

We 'd scamper home, and with cheeks aglow 

Climb up-stairs to each tiny bed, 

And there in the nursery, what they'd said 

We'd whisper over, each fairy word, 

The things we'd seen — ('Twould be absurd 

To grown-up folks — but we 'd never tell 

What we'd seen and heard in the fairies' dell) — 

Till the Sandman came with his stealthy creep 

And we wandered off to the Land of Sleep 

To dream dear dreams of fairy skies 

That can only be seen through children's eyes. 

And though that was ever so long ago, 
And war runs riot, some day, I know, 
When the world again is dear and fair 
And the flowers abloom, I'll go back there; 
Back to the dear old friendly tree 
And the fairy dell, for I know I'll see 
Once again, 'cause my heart is young, 
And my lips still speak the olden tongue, 

[49] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



The little crowd in the swirling ring, 

And my ears will hear the songs they sing, 

The magic music so sweet and fair 

As the song of the wind on the summer air, 

As the hum of the waves on a silver strand, 

Or the song of birds in a foreign land. 



[50] 



MOODS AND MEMOKIES 



TO A DEAD POET 

Dear lyric voice now stilled in sleep, 
No more your lips shall sing 

Of sun and star and sea and tree 
And every living thing — 

No more for us who linger here — 

But far away up There 
The little angel children come 

And cluster round your chair. 

And laugh with you and play with you 

As happy as your own — 
The little ones you left behind 

When your winged soul had flown, 

And oh, you sing them lullabies, 

Nor ever song so dear, 
And all of heaven grows hushed and still, 

And God draws close to hear. 



[51] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



TOP 0' THE MORNING! 

Smell of the woods in the morning; 

The sun shines gold through the trees, 
And the heavens are filled with music 

From the lips of the wide-eyed breeze. 

And who's for a plunge in the water 

A swim in the laughing lake? 
Be quick ! There is breakfast to follow 

And there still is the fire to make. 

I'm in ! What a splash ! Are you ready? 

Who, who would lie lazy asleep 
When all of the wide world is calling 

With the lure of the lake blue and deep? 

So come, that's the stuff, all together, 

Swim, swim with a stroke true and straight 

To the boat ; and the first back, the winner — 
Great ginger ! But swimming is great ! 

[52] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



The first back, the first one to breakfast ! 

Then the trail once again and the fun — 
The day lies alluring before us, 

And the morning is only begun ! 



[53] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE MASTER 

They cried aloud, " There is no God, we rule! 

We hold the sky and earth to our sweet sway, 
The sea our servant is, lightning our tool, 

The night, our lamps make light as sunlit day, 
While buildings rise like mountains at our nod — 
For masters are we here — There is no God ! ' ' 

But one who heard cried, "Answer questions 
three ! ' ' 
They bowed their heads, and he, the doubter, 
said, 
"Can ye control the rolling of the sea? 

Or give back life to one who long is dead? 
Can ye give birth to one bright summer's day?" 
But shamed, they answered not and went away ! 



[54] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



AFTERNOON TEA 

They sat around and drank weak, watered tea; 
They babbled, gossiped, talked incessantly 
Of Mrs. So-and-So, and this and that, 
Of someone's assignations, someone's hat; 
Where does she get the money for those clothes? 
Why no one tells her husband goodness 

knows . . . 
And I sat still, and somehow did not care — 
For You were not as they — and You were there. 

And then You spoke : 
You too joined in the scandal and the sin, 
And answered spicy tale with spicier tale ; 
Your lips took on the selfsame leering grin; 
Your blushless cheeks as marble and as pale ; 
I felt the scales drop down from off my eyes 
That leaped to see your depthless, naked heart, 
Your soul revealed through its mad mesh of lies, 
The nothingness of You all rent apart. . • . 

[55] 



MOODS AND MEMOKIES 



I wish to God that You or I had died 
Before I saw so shattered neath mine eyes 
My faith in an Ideal, all my pride, 
My love for You, my dreams of paradise ! 



[56] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



ANTICIPATION 

There is joy in the flaming of the fires, 

But the greater pleasure lies 
In the anticipation of delights, desires, 
Half granted, half refused, 
The acquiescence sometimes found, confused, 
Shy, yet daring, in a woman 's eyes. 



[57] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



WANDER WHISPERS 

Can't you hear them, can't you hear them, in 

the bustle of the street, 
'Mid the rattle of the traffic and the noise of 

tramping feet, 
'Mid the splitting sound of sirens from the 

river, and the hum 
Of the swiftly moving autos? Can't you hear 

them as they come, 
The voices of the woodlands and the mountains 

and the sea 
And the wide and open prairies, where we're 

hankering to be? 

They are whispering at night-time, they are 
clamorous by day, 

And your heart is almost bursting as it hears 
the things they say, 

And you feel the old, old longing for the wood- 
lands and the wind, 
[58] 



MOODS AND MEMOKIES 



For the camp-fire, for the river, for the things 

we left behind 
When the summer time was over and the winter 

with its snow 
Showed the trail that led us cityward and gave 

the order — "Go!" 

But it's spring again, it's spring-time, and the 

ancient voices call, 
And you can't resist the magic of the music 

they let fall 
As they whisper of the forests, as they murmur 

of the sea ; 
Oh, it's back we must be going where a wanderer 

would be ! 
It 's farewell to dreary cities and to dreams that 

droop and die, 
For we seek again the open, and the wide, o *er- 

arching sky! 



[59] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



ON MORRIS STREET 

To-day I saw a dragon fly on Morris Street, 
A small thing, a gay thing, with whirring wings 

and fleet, 
And up it went and down it went, as lost as lost 

could be, 
Searching for the sunny grass and wind in 

shady tree. 

But never blade of perfumed grass, and never 

shadowy glen, 
And never song of care-free bird from out the 

streets of men, 
And never sign to point the way back to where 

there lie 
The green fields, the wide fields under God's 

blue sky. 

And so it flew, a lost thing, with whirring wings 
and fleet, 

[60] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

A timid thing, a frightened thing, along the 

dingy street; 
And oh, I wished to show to it the laughing trail 

I know 
To the gay fields, the green fields, where my 

own heart would go. 



[61] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



FREIGHTERS 

Whenever I wake in the morning 

And the smell of the sea is strong, 
My heart becomes filled with yearning 

As my soul becomes filled with song, 
And it's all I can do to prevent me 

Going down to the docks right away 
And boarding the very first freighter, 
The very first salt-spattered freighter, 
That's sailing for ports far to eastward 

And is heading for down the bay. 

Now, passenger ships are like ladies, 

And timid they be with fears ; 
They know not the wander spirit 

As they lie at their painted piers, 
And like ladies they stick to the fair ways 

Where never a buccaneer trod, 
But any old salt-spattered freighter, 
Oh, any old-time honoured freighter, 
Will sail to the uncharted islands 

And steer by its trust in God. 
[62] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

So whenever I wake in the morning 

And the lure of the sea is there, 
It's adventure that calls me, calls me, 

And never was call so fair, 
And it 's all I can do to prevent me 

Going down to the docks right away 
And boarding the very first freighter, 
The very first dream-laden freighter, 
That's headed for fathomless oceans 

Down the path of the dawning day! 



[63] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE BIG DRAYS 

Up and down on West Street the big drays go — 
Wagonloads of merchandise passing to and fro, 
Up from ships, and down to ships, regular as 

song, 
Ceaselessly and endlessly the whole day long. 

Some bear but prosaic things, sacks to fill the 
hold, 

Flour and wheat and cotton things worth a 
miser 's gold; 

Others from the deep-sea ships — fruits of for- 
eign lands, 

Spices, scents and ivory, gems and silken bands. 

Copra, pearl and coffee bean, chiles, hides, and 

wax, 
Sisal, cedar, ebony, cocoa, rubber, flax, 
Motor cars, machinery, iron rails and steel, 
Music, mirrors, microscopes, rope and rickshaw 

wheel. 

[64] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

But outward freight or inward freight, borne by 
straining teams, 

Each amid the merchandise holds its load of 
dreams — 

Little, lonely wistful dreams from many a rest- 
less breast 

For the incense laden Orient or the new lands 
of the West. 



[65] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



WANDERLURE 

Whenever I try to settle down 

Find anchorage at last, 
There's something always comes to me 

With memories of the past — 
An olden smell, or an olden song, 

Or even an olden pain 
That wakens my heart to the wanderlure 

And I must fare forth again. 

Now, when I came back from Africa, and the 

soft and singing wind, 
I left the Cross and the Southern stars a million 

miles behind, 
I chained myself to a desk once more, and I 

said, "Well, here I be 
With my dreams all safely stored away in the 

arms of memory" — 
But only this morning I heard a song that a 

small street urchin sang, 
And the heart of me with an old desire and an 

olden yearning rang. 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



I don't know why a nondescript song by a non- 
descript singer sung 

Should have wakened mine ears to another tune 
in a weird and foreign tongue, 

I don't know why a vision came of a silver and 
sapphire sea, 

Of waves that crashed on a coral reef as they 
laughed in white-flecked glee, 

A glimpse of palms, and a glistening beach, and 
a sun that shone on high, 

And bare brown backs that gleamed with sweat 
as they toiled 'neath the blazing sky. 

I don't know why, but this I know, that so was 

my tired heart stirred, 
That sweet in a small boy's trivial song a far-off 

song was heard, 
And once again there came the lure, the voice 

of a foreign land, 
The lonely veldt, and the hills, the plains, the 

stretches of sun-swept sand; 
And as it was in the long ago, once more they 

tuned their cries 

[67] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



To the heart of me and the lonely sea, and a 
dream-sweet paradise. 

So once again, as in days of old, I must travel 

the comrade sea, 
Must know the gulls, and the friendly sun, and 

the stars' gay company — 
For ever 'twas so, whensoever I tried to anchor 

me strong and fast, 
The hint of a dream of a tropic land came into 

my heart at last, 
Came into my heart with its olden lure and all 

of its olden pain — 
Till I slipped my moorings and headed me 

South, a wanderer again! 

For whenever I try to settle down 

Find anchorage at last, 
There's something always comes to me 

With memories of the past — 
An olden smell, or an olden song, 

Or even an olden pain 
That wakens my heart to the wanderlure 

And I must fare forth again, 
[68] 



IN LIGHTER VEIN 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE SOLUTION 

I've wanted to get married and I've asked a lot 

of girls, 
And some of them were pretty, with a wealth 

of golden curls ; 
A few of them were homely, which mattered 

not a jot, 
And one or two had money, but they nearly 

all had not. 
They none would love for love alone, and what 

had I to give? 
They answered me, * ' These present days it costs 

SO much to live." 
The one or two with money said they surely 

did not care 
To share their wealth with anyone, not even on 

the square ; 
And all of them informed me of the cost of all 

their clothes, 
And as my courage sank and sank the prices 

rose and rose, 

[71] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



Till I again was in the slough of sorrow deep 

and cold 
And cursed the cost of living and the lack of 

honest gold. 
I've wanted to get married, and I'm going to 

married be; 
I'm going to take a little boat and sail 'way 

'cross the sea; 
I'm going to ask a Fiji girl in those far isles 

divine 
To leave her native lovers and to come and 

just be mine, 
For Fiji girls care not for clothes — their only 

dress is paint — 
And out in those delightful isles the cost of 

living ain't! 



[72] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



A WOMAN'S WAY 

She wrote him in a letter that she never would 
love him; 
She told him that she ne 'er would be his wife ; 
She pointed out that ever had his prospects 
been too slim, 
That she would never share with him life's 
strife. 
Besides, there was her future, which would 
never let her wed ; 
She hoped that he would not be too much 
grieved, 
She trusted he would always look upon her as 
a friend — 
And then she wept, because he, fool, believed ! 



[73] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



'TIS A SAD STORY, MATES 

A bachelor I, and you question me why, 

And you look at me wroth and askance, 
And I know that you blame, 'cause I don't share 
my name, 

And like other chaps go take a chance. 
But hark to the plea of most miserable me, 

Of censure I've earned not a jot — 
For the girls that would marry me I wouldn't 
marry, 

And the ones that I would — would not. 

There were Mabel and May — now what could 
I say? 
For I loved to distraction Elaine, 
But she didn't care, and oh, she was fair, 

And so were Belle, Mollie and Jane. 
Then Nan and Babette, I will never forget, 

By far they were best of the lot — 
But the girls that would marry me I wouldn't 
marry, 
And the ones that I would — would not. 

[74] 



MOODS AND MEMOKIES 



I would take your advice and be hitched in a 
trice, 
But what is a beggar to do 
When he loves Guinevere in a manner that's 
clear, 
And is bored by the worship of Lou ? 
So this is my plea, ah, be gentle with me, 

Of blame I deserve not a jot — 
For the girls that would marry me I wouldn't 
marry, 
And the ones that I would — would not. 



[75] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE ENCOUNTER 

Dressed in a silk of a wonderful yellow 

Carefully held at the front and the side, 
Stalked down Kampala a pukka Swahili 

Wife of a chieftain and swelling with pride ; 
Swelling with pride but no more than her ankles 

Weighted with bangles of silver and lead, 
Ear lobes that hung round the lid of a jam-pot, 

Streaked and beribboned the wool on her head, 
Never before had been seen such a vision, 

Never before such a lady of style, 
Never before such a wonderful yellow 

Knock you half dead at an eighth of a mile. 

There by a tree stood my friend Mrs. Bumbo, 
(Purely platonic, I give you my word. 

She is the wife of a Private, Buganda — 
Really your talk is disgrac'f 'lly absurd!) 

Dressed she was too in a flamboyant garment, 
Crimson and purple with splashes of gold; 

[76] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



Shaved was her head like a Mexican poodle, 
Boasted no ornaments, bizarre or bold. 

But Mrs. Bumbo, who dotes on fine clothing, 
Watched very closely the lady who passed, 

" Hussy,' ' she hissed, "what a terrible creature, 
Such style in Mengo would never be classed ! ' ' 

Wife of a chieftain and pukka Swahili, 

Wife of a Private in the K. A. R's, 
Chance thrown together one moment in passing, 

Main Street Kampala besides the bazaars ; 
Both very swanky and very much woman, 

Both very much of the Vere de la Vere — 
What did I hear the Swahili dame utter? 

' ' Heavens, the style of the women up here ! ' 9 
Main Street Kampala, the land of Uganda, 

Africa, Africa, far, far away! 
What is the difference all the world over, 

Woman is woman, as daylight is day ! 



[77] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



WATER AND WINE 

At the marriage feast of Cana when the guests 

sat down to dine 
The good Lord took the water and He changed 

it into wine, 
He changed it into wine, my lads, the Good 

Book lets us know, 
But where were prohibitionists two thousand 

years ago? 

Where were the prohibitionists, 
The kill-joy prohibitionists, 
To tell the Lord how wrong He was 
A long time ago? 

The Lord God gave us water, and the Lord 
God gave us wine, 

Each to his taste and let him be, no doubt was 
His design. 

But as the happy years rolled by the prohibi- 
tionist came 

[78] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



To change the ruling of the Lord and promul- 
gate His shame. 

The bigot prohibitionist, 
The hill-joy prohibitionist, 
To change the ruling of the Lord, 
And promulgate His shame. 

The Lord God gave us darkness and the Lord 

God gave us light, 
To ease the world's unhappiness He also gave 

delight. 
Long, long ago He sanctioned it, He would not 

now decline 
To grant us all the merriment that sparkles in 

good wine. 

And yet the prohibitionists, 

The "holy" prohibitionists, 

Would kill the whole world's merriment, 

And take away its wine. 

But they will reap their harvest when ^ach 
"Holier than God" 
[79] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



Creeps forth to final judgment from the shelter 

of the sod, 
And the good Lord greets them coldly as He 

stands at Heaven's brink; 
"Go forth, forever thirsty, ye, with only wine 

to drink I" 



"Go, 'killjoy prohibitionists, 
Ye bigot prohibitionists, 
Forever be ye thirsty, lads, 
With only wine to drink!" 



[80] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



NATIVE BEER 

If your "boy" should come stumbling into the 
room 

One night in a manner quite frisky, 

Don't at once be possessed of a feeling of gloom 

And fear he has drunk all your whisky. 

He may or he mayn't, but this fact remains, 

That sometimes a "boy" can possess a few- 
brains, 

And though of a bust-up he still shows the 
stains, 

Be of cheer ; 

He has likely been having a glorious spree, 

A perfectly marvellous jamboree, 

A wonderfully roystering jubilee 

On beer, beer, beer. 

There's the beer of the Hun, and the beer from 

the Hop, 
And the beer that 's a tiny bit beery, 
And any of them if in time you don't stop 

[81] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



Will make you uncommonly bleary; 

But the tembo of Afric, that land off afar, 

That's purchased and drunk at a small native 

bar, 
That costs a few cents and is always at par 
Is the cheer ; 

For a native can have quite a glorious spree, 
A perfectly marvellous jamboree, 
With a few cents from you and a few cents 

from me 
For beer, beer, beer. 

Now I do not agree with the smug or the prig, 

That a curse lies in each glass of liquor. 

Of course, if a man cannot help act a pig, 

The sooner he quits it the quicker ; 

But a gallon of tembo if swallowed aright 

Will make a man game for a flirt or a fight 

And cause him to stay out-of-doors all the night 

Feeling queer, 

For a native can have quite a glorious spree, 

A perfectly marvellous jamboree, 

A wonderfully roystering jubilee — 

On beer, beer, beer! 

[82] 



MOODS AJSTD MEMORIES 



THE TRAGEDY 

Ours was a short-lived idyll, 

A dream of a Coney day, 
As there in a hot-dog wagon, 

By the side of the buns we lay ; 
And oh, but I loved you madly, 

And oh, how I strove to please — 
When you were a coy ham sandwich 

And I was a chunk of cheese. 

Ever I hoped you loved me, 

My sandwich so pure and fair, 
Till came to the shop a gourmand 

Who captured you from me there, 
Who stole you away and — ate you, 

In spite of my sobbing pleas — 
When you were a coy ham sandwich, 

And I was a chunk of cheese. 

Never will be such beauty, 
And ne'er will I love again, 
[83] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



My heart is so crooly broken — 

(That a cheese should know such pain!) 

And I cry for that day of heaven — 
To the echoing of the seas — 

When you were a coy ham sandwich, 
And I was a chunk of cheese. 



[84] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



ON THE OLD SLAVE ROAD 

A dusky little maiden, with demurely dancing 

eyes, 
A little water-carrier strayed out of paradise, 
Wandered by me slowly, on her head a pitcher 

load, 
Smiled at me in passing — on the old slave road* 

Mayhap her glance was all for me as I went 

on my way, 
Mayhap 'twas for another, I am not prepared 

to say; 
But, seeing her disappearing in the dark, I 

swiftly strode 
And caught her up and kissed her — on the old 

slave road. 

A moment she was startled, and then she flashed 

surprise, 
And anger gleamed and glistened in the wonder 

of her eyes, 

[85] 



MOODS AND MEMOKIES 



But sudden changed to laughter as there crashed 

the pitcher load, 
And splashed us both with water — on the old 

slave road. 

She laughed, and, oh, her laughter was the 

ripple of the sea ; 
Her lips were sweet as roses and the honey 

from the bee ; 
Then she ordered me to leave her, but the sly 

moon later showed 
A couple strolling slowly — on the old slave road ! 



[86] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



WHY NOT? 
(For Don Marquis) 

When you're working on the column, 
And you're looking very solemn, 
With miles and miles of space to fill as 
swiftly flies the time ; 
When for the very soul of you, 
The heart and head and whole of you, 
You cannot think an epigram, a poem, or a 
rhyme : — 

When Hermione is on the blink, 
And you are on the verge of drink, 

And Famous Love Affairs and such are 
cussedamnly shy; 
When Aptronymics will not apt, 
And deep in gloom your brain is wrapped, 
And Scipio the Flea has flit and oh, that 
flea is fly: — 

[87] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



When Bassett Digby writes no word, 
From Hope and Hoff yon have not heard, 

And yonr H. W. has got his annual vacation, 
When come no songs from J. A. D. 
I wonder will you welcome me 

With this here coy, coquettish pome by way 
of consolation? 

I wonder will it find a place 

To fill that yawning, empty space, 

I wonder will it make a hit and give you quite 
a thrill? 
I wonder if you'll gladly grin, 
"Gee that's the stuff !" — and put it in, 

I wonder will you publish this ? — 

You bet your life you will! 



[88] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

i — ■ — ■ — _— _ — _ _ — ^ — — ^— — — — — — — — 

CHEERO! (A Chantey) 

There is some as don't like liquor, be it red or 
be it white. 

{Oh, let 'em go their way, me lads, an' 
we'll steer clear.) 
There is some as thinks it sinful for a man to 

take a drink, 
That 'is soul is 'eaded 'ell- wards an' 'is body 

for the clink, 
An' from the pore damned sinful one they turn 
away an' shrink. 

{Oh, let 'em go their way, me lads, an' 
we'll steer clear.) 

There is some as is quite honest in their feelin's 
an' dislikes. 

{Hats off to 'em in charity for they're 
all right.) 
They pass up on the liquor but they do not 

interfere 
With 'em as finds their pleasure in a cheery 

glass o' beer, 
Nor clap 'em into irons like a ruddy mutineer. 
{Hats off to 'em in charity for they're 
all right.) 

[89] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

But the meanest limb o' mankind is the smug- 
face, bone-dry gent. 

(Oh, haul away, me bully boys, we're 
pullin' out to-day.) 
Who prates o' God an' goodness but who'd let 

a ship-mate die 
Afore 'e'd pass to crackin' lips a drop o' rum or 

rye, 
For, "Drink's a curse, " 'e whines at you an' 
shifts a fishy eye. 

(Oh, haul away, me bully boys, we're 
pullin' out to-day.) 

An' 'ere's to ships and sailor-men an' 'ere's 
to wine an' water. 

(Water for the ships, me lads, an' 
sailors for the wine.) 
An' 'ere's to every far-off port where sailor- 
men go down. 
An' ere's to 'em as makes the rum wherein a 

man can drown 
The lubber's cant an' preachin' an' 'is 'alo an' 
'is crown. 

(Oh, haul away, me 'earty lads, we're 
'eaded for the Line!) 
[90] 



MEMORIES 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



CHILDHOOD DREAMS 

I was to conquer nations, 

And You were to be their Queen, 
And we both were to reign forever, 

Till the last of the earth was seen. 
Our lives were to be so happy, 

All sunshine and choc late creams — 
'Twas thus in the days long over, 

Children, we dreamed our dreams. 

I am a struggling poet, 

And You are a simple maid; 
But life we are facing together, 

Undaunted and unafraid, 
And may be we're striving for something 

That distantly, faintly gleams — 
But are we not happier far, dear, 

Than ever we dreamed in dreams ? 



[93] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



MAGIC 

Last night you played for me an olden tune, 
So fraught with love, and memory and song, 

That I again was young, and golden June 
Into my heart crept smiling. I was strong. 

As strong, my dear, as in the long ago, 
Beneath the cloaking, comfortable sky, 

Beside the grass and hedges wild a-row, 
Beloved of Love we wandered, you and I. 

But then the notes died down within the room> 
And drooped your head that once shone 
burnished gold, 
And all was still, save in the gath'ring gloom 
There throbbed the heart of Time . . . and 
I was old. 



[94] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



A PHANTASY 

I never in a garden at the close of evening walk 
But that it seems the flowers to me in whisper 
language talk. 

As children are the little buds, in any garden 

fair, 
And nursed as such with tenderness and nursed 

they be with care. 

So when I press my lips against the petals of a 

rose, 
I do but kiss a tiny mouth that only sweetness 

knows. 

And when a wounded, broken bloom droops sad 

and piteously, 
I know somewhere a little child so droops, ah, 

patiently. 

And never stirs the stranger with his scythe 
among the flowers 

[95] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



But that I see grim Death himself numbering 
baby hours. 

Then, sweet, above the whispering from out the 

starlit dome, 
I hear the voice of Him who comes to bear the 

bruised things home. 



[96] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



CONQUERING FAITH 

Soldier, Soldier, you have returned! 

What have you seen? 

Brave blood running red, 

Shrapnel shrieking overhead, 

And the spirit of the dead 
That indomitably burned — 

Where I've been, where I've been! 

I have heard the victors ' cries 

Leading the advance ; 
I have seen Her shining eyes — 

Unconquerable France; 
And the Faith that nations know 
When they join to strike the blow, 
Courage aiding, 'gainst the foe — 

Courage and Romance. 

These I've heard and these I've seen — ■ 

(God's blessing on the dead!) 
Home — a woman's brave, clear eyes, 
[97] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



Sometimes wistful, to the skies 

Gazing, overhead. 
Brave heart and brave soul 

Hiding from the world 
All the sorrow in her heart, 
In her slowly breaking heart, 

That his death has hurled — 
He who loved her and who died 
In his young and lusty pride 

On the fields of France. 

These IVe heard, and these I've seen, 
Where I've been, where I've been! 



[98] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



NOSTALGIA 

The wind came o'er the sea this morn 

And touched me on the lips, 
And my ears were filled with whisperings 

From old adventure ships ; 
From old ships and gold ships; 

And the west sun sinking slow; 
A young heart that was my heart 

Full many a year ago. 

There came the pungent odour and 

Tired perfume of a town 
Where the coral streets were blinding white 

As the blazing sun shone down; 
A spicy smell and an incense smell ; 

And a far-off coolie's cry; 
An old quest and a bold quest 

Under the southern sky. 

Small wonder that the memories 
Woke in my heart the fret, 

[99] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



The dumb, dull, dormant longings for 

The days I can't forget — 
The rare days and the fair days, 

And the song that stirred the sea, 
A brave heart and a young heart 

That was once the heart of me. 

What wonder that these eyes were filled 

With a blinding rush of tears 
As they visioned through their wistfulness 

The dreams of olden years; 
The sweet dreams and the fleet dreams, 

The dreams that would not stay — 
Though a wild heart was a child heart, 

And the dear world made for play! 



[100] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



NIGHT MEMORIES 

I like to lie in my bed o' nights with the clean 

white sheets around me, 
And dreamily think of those other days and 

those other nights that found me 
Wrapped in a blanket, out on the veldt, my face 

upturned to the sky, 
And the song of the open filling my ears along 

with the night wind's sigh. 

I love to hear through the hum of the streets 

the palm-tree 's quivering note, 
The thousand and one little lonely sounds that 

bring a lump to the throat, 
The jackal's cry, and the lion's grunt, and the 

breath of sleeping men, 
The cough of the sentry keeping watch — and I 

hear them all again. 

Hear them all as I lie in bed, and see with dear 
memory's eyes 

[101] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



The Southern Cross and the brilliant stars light- 
ing the southern skies ; 

See them all as I saw them of old, ere sleep 
came tumbling down 

To bring me dreams of a far-away home in the 
arms of the turbulent town. 

And then when dawn comes creeping to me 

here in my soft white bed 
I waken up as a million thoughts come rushing 

into my head; 
And somehow I miss the rustle and stir of an 

army, the short night done, 
Waking to toil and the long, long trek of the 

long, long day begun. 

For never a man with good red blood coursing 

his pulsing veins 
Who's tramped the tropical open veldt, the 

desert, the hills, the plains, 
But sometimes pines for the days gone by, the 

life so brave and free, 
And the lonely nights in the lonely lands, over 

the lonely sea ! 

[102] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



NIGHTMARE 

Home, and dear peace, 

Familiar faces and old familiar highways/ 

Byways, 

And the sweet snn shining o'er it all. . . . 

I could forget I ever had known war 

So strange it seems, 

So very long ago, away so far; 

And yet in dreams, 

Sometimes o' nights I hear again 

The bullet's hiss, the cannon's roar, and the 

broken cry 
Of a soul in pain; 

And I see before dim dream-filled eyes 
A bleeding form that broken lies 
Upturned to the sky, 
His brains scattered, and no sound 
From pain-distorted lips 
That leer and grin. . . . 

[103] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



The clotted blood congeals upon the ground 

Red, and crimson red, as drop by drop it drips, 

Slow, Slow, Slow. 

And fear possesses me, 

A queer, strange, wild, uncanny, fear, 

As the vultures swarm in the darkened sky, 

And suddenly I know 

That broken, bleeding, piteous thing to be 

What once was I. . . . 

And then I wake 

"White sheets about me, 

And the well-remembered room. 



[104] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



IN PORT 

Whenever I walk by the shore of the sea 

And the soft winds blow, 
An old pain awakes in my heart 

And I have the wish to go — 
To board the first salt-spattered craft, 

Where the screeching winches whine, 
With a bronzed old skipper upon the bridge, 

And outward bound for the Line. 

The fever lasts till the sunset falls 

And the night dips down, 
And I turn away from the haunting sea 

To the wide-eyed town, 
For I know that a light in a window there 

Holds welcome out to me; 
And peace for a wanderer's weary heart 

Lies not across the sea. 

Oh, up the world and down the world 
A man would go 

[105] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



To still the ache in his wander heart 

When the soft winds blow; 
But he who has travelled the restless sea 

Is woefully old and wise — 
He knows that peace can be only found 

Under his own home skies. 



[106] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



TWO MEETINGS 

The damned old ambulance swayed and lurched 

Across the shell-torn road, 
But stopped where a dusty column of men 

In marching order strode. 
From out of the ranks you came to me 

To wish me luck of the best — 
And you were marching the Eastward trail, 

And I was headed West. 

When out of the hospital once again 

I marched the selfsame road, 
I came to a spot where weirdly and wan 

Under the starshine showed 
A poor little cross that bore your name. 

(God grant you kindliest rest!) 
But I was bound for the Eastward, then, 

And you had travelled West. 



[107] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



A TROPIC NIGHT 

The air sweet with jasmine and the scent 

Of spices, and the salt tang of the sea ; 

A soft wind sighing in tall palms, the leaves 

Rustling with a gentle, soothing song, 

And swaying in the moonlight as a maid 

Upon the arms of dream to music's lure. 

Then sand, far stretching to the line of sea — 

That lonely loveliness of silver sheen 

And lazy breakers falling on the shore 

In scintillating, diamond points of light. 

Behind, the town of tinted walls 
With roofs of palm-leaf thatch, and coral streets 
Strange, winding in and out amid the palms, 
Where palely, a still, tall, stately minaret 
Rises in the moonlight to the stars, 
Pointing, as from countless ages past 

[108] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 

The mosques of men have risen to the skies 
In mute acclaim of Him whose presence is 
Forever 'mid the lovely, moonlit world 
Long, long ago created that men's souls 
Might dimly sense at last, in wonderment, 
The glory, and the beauty that is God. 



[109] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



ROADS 

Roads I have known come back to me 

In memory again, 
The far-flung roads to anywhere, 

Sun-scorched, or drenched with rain, 
Roads I have tramped with Happiness, 

And Homesickness, and Pain. 

One led across the sunset hills, 

When I was very small, 
And filled my heart with restlessness 

As came the Wander call, 
And I would go far travelling 

When I was grown and tall. 

And then one day I followed it — 
The lure that called and led — 

Across the open, lovely world 
For "On, Go on!" it said, 

And when one road was left behind 
Another loomed ahead. 

[110] 



MOODS AND MEMOKIES 



Roadways I have loved and known ! 
Roads I yet must know ! 

There is no peace for Wanderers 
Upon this earth below. 

1 wish that I had never tramped 
The old Road, long ago! 



[Ill] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



PRISONERED 

I would forget old tropic skies, 

A dear land I know, 
Tall palm trees by a singing sea 

Where soft winds blow, 
For the memory breaks the heart of me 

That longs so much to go. 

And I can shut the vision out — 

The little, bluest bay, 
The stately liners anchored there, 

The diving boys at play, 
And the great sun, the glad sun, 

Shining on the day. 

The snake-like shore of silvered sand, 

The tumbled little town, 
The huddled houses blinding white 

With palm-thatched roof, or brown 
Or red tiled roofs, beside the streets 

That wander up and down. 
[112] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



But I cannot still the old sounds — 
The pungent winds that blow, 

The coolies singing in the dark 
Beneath the white stars glow, 

And memory hurts the heart of me 
That prisonered, cannot go. 



[113] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE LOST GRAVE 

We buried him upon the veldt where ne'er be- 
fore had trod 

The foot of man. We left him there alone with 
Death and God. 

We had no wood to make a cross, no stone to 

mark the place. 
The winds blow strong. If we should seek we 

now would find no trace. 

We only know that somewhere there in deepest 

sleep he lies 
Amid the sun-scorched loneliness, under the 

sapphire skies. 

And he had loved to tell us how he would go 
home some day 

To the big town, his own town for his well- 
earned play. 

[114] 



MOODS AND MEMOKIES 



And so I never walk along the crowded streets 

of men 
He loved so well, but that I see in memory 

again — 

The broad veldt, the lone veldt, the starlit skies, 
And his lost grave in Africa where the night 
wind sighs. 



[115] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



DARESSALAAM 

Now Paris is a brave town, a fair town, a play 
town, 
And London is a solemn place where traffic 
rumbles by, 
And New York is a busy town, a young town, 
a gay town, 
But Daressalaam lies lazy underneath a 
southern sky. 

And Paris is for laughter, and London is for 
thought, 
And New York is for money all the live-long 
day, 
But if your heart seeks restfulness, and if for 
peace you've sought 
There's Daressalaam that lazy lies beside a 
sapphire bay. 

Once on a time, long, long ago, its streets of 
coral white 

[116] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



Re-echoed when slave-traders came for 
freight to bear o'erseas; 
And later on the transports grim unloaded in 
the night, 
And Daressalaam was noisy in the soft south- 
ern breeze. 

But now beside the hospital that looks across 
the sea 
The little graves in rows are white, (Ah, 
youth that died too soon!) 
The sentinel, tall palm-trees sigh and sway 
seductively, 
And Daressalaam lies lovely underneath a 
southern moon. 

And the streets are very quiet now, perhaps 
again some day 
With traffic and with commerce they will once 
more crowded be ; 
But now there's only peacefulness, and a weary 
heart would stray 
In Daressalaam so lonely by a far-off south- 
ern sea. 

[117] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



REMEMBRANCE 

I try to think I never knew at all 
The old life that lures me far away; 

I try to think I do not hear it call, 
And yet I hear it every night and day. 

And even now I know in that far land, 
A warm wind blows softly from the sea 

Where naked children play upon the sand 
Beneath the palms, as night falls suddenly. 

There sounds the muezzin's cry to evening 
prayer, 

And peace a moment reigns in the bazaars 
As busy merchants to the temples fare 

To greet their God, beneath the singing stars. 

The oil lamps flare fickly in the wind, 

The scent of incense permeates the air. . . . 
Ah, heart of me that knew it all be blind, 
Know not the dream that haunts us, lures us 
there ! 

[118] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



PERFUMES 

Roses in an old-world garden 

Fair and far away, 
Sweet-pea and syringa walks 

Hollyhocks so gay. . . . 

I never see a soft, green lawn 
Or scent a full-blown rose, 

But my heart goes back to England, 
And a dear, old garden close. 

Jasmine gives me Aden back. 

Incense brings Port Said. 
Dust and sun, the naked veldt 

And rifles spitting lead. 

Tang of tar wakes in my breast 

Storm-defying ships ; 
Southern seas in touch of salt 

To nostrils and to lips. 
[119] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



And though all bring memories, 
One holds a spot apart, 

Sacred to its loveliness, 
Cornered in my heart. 

Sweet-pea and syringa walks, 

Hollyhocks so gay, 
Eoses and an old-world garden 

Oh, so far away ! 



[120] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



SEA-HUNGER 

I wonder will I ever know again 

The open waters of the lovely sea, 

The gulls ' screech, the waves ' song, 

The whisper of the wind 

Around the rigging of a ship. 

I wonder will I know once more 

The queer, strange, pleasant pain 

Of leaving well-loved lands for well-loved 

lands — 
Cathay for Arcady. 

I wonder will the days, the years be long 

Before I greet again and find, 

As found of old, with ecstacy and marvelling, 

The hidden secrets that are only known 

To those who sail the sea in ships 

And love the sea, 



[121] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE WIFE'S VIGIL 

I look down the long road that leads to the sea, 

And you'd think to see me smiling that I was 
gay and free, 

But my heavy heart is breaking as I gaze along 
the road 

Away into that yesterday and the stars that 
softly showed 
The life of me, the soul of me, with laughter 

on his lips, 
Tramping down the bright road to outward- 
faring ships. 

The long road is a sad road that leads to the sea, 
But the night is filled with wonderness and 

haunting mystery, 
And I'm praying God of Sailors though my 

heart be cold and numb 
That if I smiling keep the tryst perhaps at last 
will come 

[122] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



The life of me, the soul of me, with laughter 
on his lips, 

Tramping up the old road from anchor- 
riding ships. 

But dark is the long road that leads to the sea, 

And it's well I know the icy fear that gnaws 
the heart of me — 

For, "His ship is lost, his ship is lost," the 
gaunt-eyed women say — 

But I must keep the promised tryst, perhaps 
will come some day 
The life of me, the soul of me, with laughter 

on his lips, ■ 
Tramping up the glad road from weather- 
beaten ships. 



[123] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE TORCH 

No better or no worse were we, 
But when the summons came, 

We flung our follies far behind 
And tried to play the game, 

And consecrated our young lives 
Purged as with living flame. 

We knew the zero hour and all 

The wonder of the dawn, 
The shrieking hell of shrapnel rain — 

And now, they all are gone, 
And of that star-eyed laughing crew 

One, I alone, live on. 

And oh, I dream of the Ideal, 
The Faith our hearts gave place, 

And pray to God to hold me true 
And grant me strength and grace, 

That when I die I may be free 
To look them in the face. 
[124] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



OLD CAMPAIGNERS 
(For "Trot" Anderson) 

When we 'd come home we met one night, 
And lived them o'er again — 

The tongue-parched treks to water holes 
Across the sun-scorched plain, 

Or through the bullet-hiding bush, 
Where many a man was slain. 

We spoke of far field hospitals — 
White tents on whiter sands ; 

Of comrades known in crowded hours 
Who waved a farewell hand, 

And dying found the final trail 
To the last and fairest land. 

We talked of dangers we had known 

(To memory now dear), 
Of brimful days adventuring, 
With Romance ever near; 
[125] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



And in the room old Wanderlure 
Was there for us to hear. 

And so we said how glad we were 

To be safe home again; 
But wistfulness was in your voice, 

And in my heart stirred pain. . . , 
I dared not look you in the eyes 

That questioned mine in vain. 



[126] 



MOODS AND MEMOKIES 



THE GAKDEN 

I know a lovely garden, 

Far away, and far away, 
That is sweet with scent of roses 

All the snnny summer day; 
And I never see that garden, 
See in dreams that lovely garden, 
But I think of God's own heaven 
Where the little angels play. 

You enter from the croquet lawn 

And slowly step across 
The ancient steps of rude-cut stone, 

Now velvet-soft with moss. 

Along a little grassy walk, 

Syringa on each side, 
To where the laughing lavender 

Is blossoming in pride. 
[127] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



And then another step or two 

Into a sky-capped room, 
L Where everywhere, and everywhere, 

The roses are in bloom. 

You find a seat beside the pond, 

And underneath a tree, 
You hear the roses echoing 

The low wind's melody. 

And if because it is so sweet, 
You fall to dreaming there — 

Why, that is what that garden's for, 
And who is there to care? 

And so I love that garden, 

Far away, and far away, 
[Where the fretful world of toiling 

Is forgotten, flung away ; 
And I never see that garden, 
See in dreams that lovely garden, 
But I think of God's own heaven 

Where the little angels play. 
[128] 



MOODS AND MEMOEIES 



LITTLE LIGHTS 

When the weary day is over 

And I leave the city's ways, 
My heart goes winging southwards 

To the smiling sunny days; 
To the palm-trees singing softly 

As the still night clambers down, 
And the little lights gleam brightly, 
Gleam and glisten welcome brightly, 
From the little white-walled houses 

In a tiny tropic town. 

I hear the muezzin calling 

From the white-domed minaret, 
And the magic of the summons 

Holds and haunts my senses yet. 
I watch the stars as, shyly, 

They stoop to kiss the bay 
That flings them back their glory 

In a shower of golden spray. 
[129] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



Then my heart commences singing 

As it sang so long ago, 
Beneath the crooning palm-trees 

In the sunset's fading glow, 
When dear other days were over 

And the nights came creeping down, 
And I found them gleaming brightly — 
Little lights all gleaming brightly 
From the welcoming wee houses 

In a far-off foreign town. 



[130] 



LOVE SONGS 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



SWEETHEART OF LONG AGO 

Sweetheart of the Long Ago, the Southern 
Cross is shining, 
The wind is in the palm-trees and the wind 
is o'er the sea, 
It's whispering and whispering with all its old 
repining, 
And oh! it comes a-stealing to the lonely 
heart of me. 

It brings dear, dim, unbidden dreams, it brings 
unbidden glories, 
The memory of the eyes of you with wonder 
glowing there, 
The golden hours in golden days when life was 
fairy stories, 
The laughter-loving lips of you, the perfume 
of your hair. 

It whispers and it whispers, and I hear it softly 
sighing 

[133] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



The intimate and precious things that once 

you said to me — 
Ah, Sweetheart of the years ago, my saddened 

heart is crying 
With lonely, wistful longings for the dreams 

that ne'er can be. 



L 134 ] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



I WILL FOEGET 

I know that in a year or two 
I will have quite forgotten you — 
Your eyes grey-hazel and your hair 
Wind-tossed about and glorious fair, 
Your slim young form, your radiant ways 
That lure me, haunt me through the days. 

Some one will careless speak your name, 

But it will never wake the flame 

Of olden longing and desire, 

For quenched will be the olden fire ; 

And yet 'twill stir in idleness 

A thought of you with tenderness. 

And I will dream a little while 
Of your dear-loved caressing smile, 
And wonder how and where you fared, 
And wonder why I ever cared, 
And think how in the long ago 
I lived, and dreamed, and loved you so. 

[135] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



And then I'll shut old memory's door, 
And smile, and think of you no more. 
But now I cannot laugh or play 
For thinking of you all the day. . . e 
I wish the interim were done 
And it were nineteen twenty one. 



[ 136 ] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



PERHAPS 

Perhaps some day 

When the fighting and killing of men is o'er, 
Perhaps I may. . . . 

Perhaps I may when the lust of blood 
And the flash of steel 

And the roar 
Of guns that crash and blaze, 
And the endless days 

No more 
Are mine or me ; 
Perhaps there 11 be 

One to welcome and caress, 

Bless, 
And take into her heart — Me. 

Perhaps I may 
Some distant day 
Claim my own — 
(Ah, the hours flown 

[137] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



And the dreams dead!) 
One who has not forgot, 

The years remembered 

The hopes far-flung, 
The light that lies 
In lovers' eyes 
And never dies 

When hearts are young. 



[138] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



LOSS 

I thought that love would come to me 

Red flamed and burning, 
And bear me down the orchid way 

Of no returning. 

I dreamed that in a swoon of joy 
My wild heart would greet 

The heart of love, the lips of love 
Passionate and sweet. 

I did not know that love would come 

With no brave token, 
With neither flaming fire nor flower, 

And no word spoken. . . . 
Oh, lonely world, and empty skies I 

And my heart broken. 



[139] 



HOODS AND MEMORIES 



ROSE PETALS 

I remember that her eyes were very blue 

And sweet with swiftly changing lights 

That melted into liquid loveliness 

When she was glad and smiled; 

Or in distress 

Seemed as deep mountain pools of woe, 

Mysterious and grey, 

A-glow 

With velvet shadows dancing 

As sunshine sometimes dances 

Through the ever-lovely, ever-friendly trees 

In the breeze of an April day. 

She was most gloriously tall 

And still more gloriously fair, 

A rose of loveliness; 

Her hair 

Deep golden brown with scent of wind-wooed 

flowers ; 
I loved to press 

[140] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



My lips against its silken softness, 

To caress, 

Withdraw each comb and pin 

And let it fall 

Tumbling like the sunshine o'er her shoulders, 

Hear her chide 

Me gently for the havoc I had wrought 

And then forgive me when I cried 

Repentance, 

Her eyes glistening as the stars when God 

smiles, 
And her lips, red, and moist, and near, 
And very dear, 

Whispering, murmuring in my ear, 
Then creeping, smilingly apart, 
Seductively, against my cheek, till lip to lip, 
And form to form, 
I crushed her to my heart, 
As a man will crush the petals of a flower he 

loves. , , . 



[141] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



KNOWLEDGE 

I know this same sun blazes in the sky 
In Araby where spices fill the air ; 

I know that even now the palm-trees sigh 
Of love forgot and happiness out there. 

I know that if I dare to shut my eyes, 
My heart will winging go to olden hours, 

To little happy peeps at paradise, 
To brown hands garlanded with singing 
flowers. 

I know that if I dream the silent night, 
For all my grief a mantle will be made — 

But, dare I face the questioning cold light, 
The dawn at morning? Heart — I am afraid! 



[142] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



THE MESSAGE 

If I did make the bitter tears 

From lovely eyes to flow 
Because I trampled on her heart, 

Unknowing, long ago, 
Go tell her now, Little Song — 

At last, I know. 

Go tell her that whatever hurt, 

Or pain, in days far flown, 
Whatever careless deed of mine 

Once made her heart to moan, 
The same, and haunting hours of grief, 

I too, have known. 

Go tell her that the heart of me 

Cries out to hers my pain, 
The prayers unanswered, dreams unfilled, 

The broken hopes, all vain ; 
Go ask her dear forgiveness, Song — 

Her love again. 

[143] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



SO WORLDLY WISE WERE WE 

So worldly wise were we that we could play 
The game of Love with cynic touch and light, 
Drink deep of lips beneath the starry night, 

Walk arm-entwined a-down the singing day. 

So versed were we in all the wiles and arts, 
The tricks of Love, not one but that we knew, 
We did not fear to think, or say, or do 

The every prompting of our shallow hearts. 

And then one day I kissed your lips good-bye, 
And watched you going down your own far 
way. 

We said "The game has ended in a tie." 
And we were very cynical and gay. 

I did not know your hurt. You never guessed 

The grief that I too harboured in my breast. 



[144] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



TEARS ARE VAIN 

Ay, men have gone to far Cathay, 
And men have sailed to Spain, 

And men have trekked in India, 
And all come home again — 

So dry your tears with laughter, dear, 
For tears are only vain. 

For tears are only vain, my dear — 

The perfume of the rose 
The ne'er the sweeter is for rain 

It never, never knows; 
And wind that is so cruel here 

In far lands fairer blows. 

And though he be in Africa, 

Or on the Spanish Main, 
Or lost in lure of Gobi's sands, 

Be glad — and not in vain — 
For in his heart there is a dream 

And he'll come home again 1 
[145] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



FOREVER 

Forever and forever, dear, 

To cherish and to hold; 
More precious than the dreams of men 

And all men's mortal gold; 
More beautiful than southern stars 

And sun on waters blue ; 
More wonderful than all the world — 

The radiant heart of you. 

Forever and forever, dear, 

To love and to adore ; 
Naught else I ask of things that be 

Till time throbs on no more ; 
Till time is dead, and tears are dead, 

And all the world is done, 
And stars light not the darkened skies, 

Nor lonely moon, nor sun. 
[146] 



MOODS AND MEM OKIES 

Forever and forever, dear, 

(Ah, dream that is to be!) 
But you and I of all the world 

For all eternity. . . . 
Oh, grant I may be worthy of . 

The trust reposed in me. 



[147] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



BECAUSE OF A DAY 

Because of a day, one summer, 

A sun-lit, leafy lane, 
A slow wind blowing softly, 

I will not tramp again 
A sunny, woodland wilderness, 

But that I will know pain. 

No more will come caressing 
The soft wind blowing free, 

But that I will surrender 
Unto the sorcery 

Of sun, and wind and woodland lane, 
And you in memory. 

A little hour of dreaming, 
(Ah, futile hope, and vain) 

A moment's old-time gladness 
Or ever comes the rain, 

The ghost of your dear loveliness, 
And then — heart-break and pain. 
[148] 



MOODS AND MEMORIES 



PORT 0> CALL 

For I was but a wanderer, 

Of all the world and over 
Until it came that I met you, 

My fair friend, my lover. 

And then no more I wished to roam, 

No lure lay in the skies. 
I only sought the anchorage 

Of your dear, kind eyes. 

But now my ship sails on again 

Across the lonely sea, 
And my heart is sad as the sad night wind 

That sighs, tired, brokenly. 



[149] 



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